


You Put a Fever Inside Me

by missred



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Fever, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, if we're being honest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 00:56:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5227706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missred/pseuds/missred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The beach may be Gabe's turf, but the lake is Patrick's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Put a Fever Inside Me

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sunstroke](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4471670) by [still_emo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_emo/pseuds/still_emo). 



Gabe is regretting many things all at once. It’s fucking _cold_ and he’s regretting that he only brought sneakers when he came to visit Patrick, and they’re now soaked through with snow. He’s regretting his height, because in the wind his whole body has become a study in wind resistance. He’s regretting ever letting Patrick talk him into going to the lake in the first place. To be fair, he didn’t do more than ask, but he got that gleam in his eye that only showed up when he wanted something badly, and Gabe was not in the habit of denying Patrick any of those things.

So now Gabe is standing a little ways back, trying to huddle behind a frozen tree for cover. It only sort of works. Patrick has plopped his ass down on the icy ledge right by the water looks like he’s content to never move. He’s grinning like he’s found the perfect melody or something out in this bitter fucking cold hellscape, and Gabe’ll be damned before he complained about the cold when Patrick is beaming like that. The wind is literally painful, and the only reasoning Gabe can come up for Patrick’s indifference to it is because he’s used to it and has less surface area. Gabe hunches his shoulders and tries to wait it out. Even Jersey isn’t this bad. They're out there maybe two hours before Patrick seems to realize that it's negative 18 out.

Gabe doesn't even want to think about the word windchill.

"I guess we should head back." Patrick murmurs sheepishly.

"Wwhat--ever you ssay, Quer-rido." Gabe tries to frown but the muscles in his face have gone stiff and numb.

Patrick marches easily through the snow slushed streets and back towards his apartment. Gabe can't feel his feet but he focuses on making them follow Patrick .Luckily it's not something that requires thought or much effort--following Patrick is something that's come naturally for a while now.

It's deeply unfair how adorable Patrick looks bundled up. His hat and jacket cover most of his face and all Gabe can really see are his very favorite eyes and cheeks that have gone endearingly pink in the cold. It almost makes up for how Gabe feels like all of his muscles have frozen inside of him. He's lived in Jersey, he knows cold, but this is a whole other level. He’d brought his peacoat, it’s very fashionable. His tennis shoes are entirely useless at this point. Gabe’s thinking murderous thoughts at both of them. Patrick's got on sturdy snow boots and a thick down jacket. He’d offered Gabe one of his other ones but Gabe couldn't even get it across his chest, and he wasn't going to ruin Patrick's jacket because he didn't plan ahead. He does at least have a hat, but even that thought feels kind of grim. It's better when Patrick looks back at him trudging through the snow and his eyes crinkle up--Gabe can tell he's smiling. That feels pretty goddamn warm.

* * *

 

Gabe would be glad to be inside but he can't feel most of his body anymore. He's kind of gotten used to it and he's not looking forward to thawing, that’s the part that hurts. Patrick is shedding his layers at the door and that's a definite plus, but Gabe can't coax his fingers to do the same.They're stiff and starting to tingle and he can't make them curl around the thick black buttons on his coat to undo them.

"You okay?" Patrick's put away his things and Gabe is still standing by the hall closet dripping melting snow onto Patrick's mud rug.

"Just warming up." Gabe forces out. His jaw hurts, that's a first.

"You'll feel better once you're out of that stuff." Patrick assures him easily.

Gabe nods tersely and wonders how long he can stand here before Patrick realizes he can't make his fingers work.The answer is about another 30 seconds.

"Need some help over here?" Patrick offers quietly, because he is a saint and pretty adept at figuring out Gabe's silences.

He gently pushes Gabe's hands away from the buttons, frowning slightly. He deftly unbuttons Gabe's coat, stretching a bit to reach the top button, then he grabs Gabe's hand again. It feels a little like fire to Gabe, but Patrick doesn't look pleased.

"You're not warming up."

"Gimme a minute." Gabe bites out. He rubs his jaw while he talks.

Patrick eyes him critically and then shakes his head.

"Nope. C'mon."

Gabe pushes his feet out of wet sneakers with numb toes and lets himself be pulled along. Patrick never stops holding his hand.

They head upstairs and Patrick goes straight for the bathroom. He starts the shower running to give it time to warm up and Gabe shivers as the room fills with steam.

"Can you..?" Patrick gestures to his t shirt and Gabe nods, tries to make his arms work, but they're still and uncooperative, like dead weight. Gabe pretty much feels like all dead weight right now.

"More fun for me then." Patrick smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Gabe can see worry in the way he crinkles his forehead.

It's awkward, having Patrick help him out of his clothes. It's happened before, but with totally different context, and usually Gabe is helping and not just trying not to hinder. His limbs feel too big, too long, clumsy in Patrick's bathroom. When he tries to step into the shower his legs start to shake violently and he can't stop it

"Okay." Patrick breathes. He's water splattered even with his sleeves rolled up and Gabe can't even find the words to crack a joke behind the shame that's built up in the back of his throat.

Patrick flips a switch pushes the plug down in the bathtub. He pushes Gabe down too, gently, and the tub starts to fill with water. Gabe sits with his knees to his chin because he doesn't fit any other way. The water makes his whole body hurt and it's like fire rushing down his nerves. Gabe knows it's blood getting back to where it needs to be but it hurts like hell and it sets him shaking, shivering with his whole body.Patrick is looking so dismal sitting on the lid of the toilet, watching, that Gabe tries to break the silence

"Kn--ew I'd be getting you wet today, Ssstump."

It's not his best line, and it'd probably go down better it Gabe wasn't stuttering, but Patrick barely twitches his lips. He's watching Gabe, anxious.Gabe sits in the tub until he stops shaking, but he still doesn't feel warm. The heat helped him make his body work again, and he's glad to step out of the tub, wrap a towel around his waist, and get Patrick the hell out of the bathroom.His glasses had fogged over a while ago and he was not looking cheerful.

Gabe thanks every god he knows he was planning to sleep over tonight. It means he has his sweats, in his duffle tucked in Patrick's room, and he shimmies into them gratefully and tries not to focus on how it still doesn't make him feel warm.

"You're gonna have to crack a smile eventually querido. What, are you not happy I'm here?"

"M'always happy when you're here." Patrick says, but his attention isn't on Gabe. He's rooting through his dresser drawer. A second later he pull out a big cableknit sweater and tosses it to Gabe.

"Here. That t shirt isn't gonna cut it." He says, eying the thin soft gray tee Gabe usually sleeps in.

Gabe accepts it without protest, pulling it over his head. He's sort of pleasantly surprised it smells like Patrick.

'Thanks." He murmurs softly.

"Don't thank me, I'm the reason you're half frozen." Patrick says, tossing a pair of wool socks at Gabe. "Take these too, I'm cold just looking at you."

"You worry too much." Gabe chides. But he takes the socks and presses a kiss to Patrick's temple.

"Meet you downstairs?"

"Yeah."

Patrick is already shrugging off his sweater and reaching for pjs. Gabe pads downstairs and makes for the couch. He never understood why Patrick kept many blankets in the living room, but right now he's grateful. He empties out the entire blanket chest and burrows on the couch.

It'll be even nicer once Patrick's there, Gabe thinks sleepily. He's got Chopped on TV but he doesn't even make it through the appetizer round before he's snoring.

* * *

 

When Gabe wakes up it’s dark out, and Patrick is nowhere in sight. Gabe follows the soft sounds of John Coltrane coming from the kitchen and wipes his nose on his sleeve before sneaking up behind Patrick and wrapping his arms around his waist. Patrick whips around immediately and pressed a hand to Gabe’s forehead.

“How are you feeling?” He asks anxiously.

“I’m great.” Gabe grins for effect, but ends up having to turn away quickly to sneeze.

“Yeah, and I’m the freakin’ president.” Patrick mutters.

“I _am_.” Gabe tries not to sniffle but the trade off is that snot starts dripping from his nose into his mouth and oh my god that’s disgusting. Patrick hands him a tissue from next to the stove.

“Shut up, honestly.” He seems angry and Gabe can’t figure out why. No way out but through Gabe figures, and mentally shrugs before he asks,

“What’s wrong?”

“ _You_ are. And it’s my fault.” Patrick growls. He stalks angrily out of the kitchen a returns a second a later with a thermometer.

“Woah. I’m a little snotty. It’s January, it happens to everyone. Not your fault at all, ‘Rick.”

“You’re sick, because I dragged you out to the lake and you weren’t dressed properly and because you’re _Gabe_. Now please go sit on the couch and give me a minute to find the takeout menu.”

“Oooh, fancy.” Gabe teases.

“Hot and sour soup will clear your sinuses out.” Patrick points out practically.  “Go get back under the blankets, you’re shivering.”

“Am not.” Gabe retorts automatically, right as he realizes that he is actually shaking all over.

“Fine, fine.” He holds his hands up in defeat and retreats to the sofa. Patrick joins him a moment later, brandishing the thermometer.

“Patrick,” Gabe reasons from under a pile of blankets, “my nose is a little stuffed, don’t you think this is overreact--”

“No. I don’t.” Patrick straddles his chest easily and pops the thermometer into Gabe’s mouth.

Gabe grabs the thermometer before Patrick has the chance and glances at the number. It’s a good thing he has such a killer poker face honestly.

“Perfectly normal, 98.6. Told you that you were overreacting.”

Patrick eyes him from a minute and then lunges for the thermometer, unapologetically kneeing Gabe in the chest when he tries to keep it out of Patrick’s reach.

“Ooof.” Gabe huffs.

“Liar.” Patrick accuses grimly. “103. 4. _Jesus_ , Gabe.” Patrick hops off the couch as Gabe yells after him, “I run warm! It’s nothing!”

It doesn’t feel like nothing, if Gabe’s being honest. He’s achy and tired and his head is almost definitely splitting down the middle and he’s under four blankets but he can’t get warm. Patrick returns with a bottle of Tylenol and a glass of water.  Gabe downs the pills without complaint and tries to ignore how it hurts to swallow. He curls back up on the couch and fights to keep his eyes open.

“What can I do?” Patrick asks gently.

“M’okay. Really.” Gabe mumbles.

It’s only the pained sort of huff Patrick let’s out that drags Gabe back to consciousness.

“I don’t want you to worry.” Gabe murmurs, sitting up and pulling Patrick into his lap.

“That’s not really your call.” Patrick answers, but there’s something tense in his voice.

Gabe coughs, harsh and thick, like his lungs are getting payback for the hours he stood outside breathing in icy air.

“It’s not your fault.” Gabe tells him, pressing the words into the crown of his head.

“Agree to disagree.” Patrick says, shimmying out of Gabe’s lap. “Please, just tell me if I can help.”

“You can help by not _leaving_.” Gabe grouses. “I’m freezing here.”

“You are decidedly _not_ freezing.” Patrick tells him, and there’s a sharp edge of worry to his tone.

“Prove it.” Gabe shoots back, trying to take the edge out of Patrick’s voice.

Patrick holds up the thermometer wordlessly, and in hindsight that was not Gabe’s finest moment. It’s tough to think straight when he’s so tired the edges of his vision are going fuzzy.

“Please, don’t leave.” Gabe doesn’t have the energy to explain better, he just wants Patrick next to him on the couch, pressed close to he can feel him.

Being sick always fucks with Gabe’s head and he’s not good at being alone. Patrick stands up and walks away. Gabe closes his eyes. That’s fair, he guesses. He doesn’t want Patrick to get sick anyways--Gabe’s eyes open when a pillow hits him square in the chest.

“C’mon, lift your head up.” Patrick orders, and Gabe complies. It’s better on the couch with the pillow. He doesn’t fit lying stretched out, but he’s alright if he scrunches his knees, and then there’s enough space for Patrick.

“Figured you wouldn’t feel like moving.” Patrick explains quietly. “Though just so we’re clear I’d much prefer you in bed. You’re gonna get a crick in your neck like this.”

“Don’t care. Probably will tomorrow, but nor right now.” Gabe admits.

He’s starting to sweat under the blankets and it’s suddenly way too hot. He squirms out of the nest he’s made and shoves the blankets to the end of the couch. Patrick sits down by his torso and presses both hands to Gabe’s cheeks.

“You’re all flushed.” Patrick’s chewing his lip.

“You always could make me blush, babe.” Gabe says sleepily.

Patrick frowns. He check his watch and grabs the thermometer off the table. Gabe watches through half lidded eyes and opens his mouth automatically.

“You jus’ checked.” He mumbles.

“An hour ago.” Patrick answers. “Keep that under your tongue.”

Gabe’s lost all will to protest and he does as Patrick says. When it beeps, Patrick pulls the stick out from his mouth and sighs, relaxing his shoulders a bit.

“101. Tylenol’s working.”

“You’re a worrywart.”

“You’re worrisome.” Patrick retorts.

Gabe takes offense to that but before he can formulate his displeasure the doorbell rings.

“That’ll be the Chinese.” Patrick says, mostly to himself and runs to the door, wallet in hand.

Gabe can’t think of anything he wants to do less than eat right now. Everything in him is pulling for sleep, and the draft that Patrick let in answering the door has him shivering again.

“Food’s here.” Patrick announces, setting down the bags on the coffee table.

“Mmhmm.” Gabe agrees. “Can we not, right now though?”

“You really should eat something.” The worry lines are back and Patrick’s brow is creased.

“I will, promise. But can you just come here for now?” Gabe hopes the boneless and pathetic look is helping his cause.

Patrick bites his lip, considering.

“Give me one second.” He disappears up the stairs and that is the opposite of what Gabe wanted--he’s kind of bummed.

But Patrick returns with the thick down comforter off his bed and spreads it out over Gabe.

“You were shivering again.”

Gabe practically hums, because this very good, big and fluffy and Patrick-y, because it’s his.

“Come warm me up then.” Gabe’s aiming for teasing but it comes out closer to begging.

Patrick hesitates, “Where do you want me?”

“Everywhere.” Gabe groans, frustrated, because how does Patrick not know that by now?

“Okay, okay. Clingy.” Patrick laughs a bit and Gabe sits up just enough to pull him onto the couch.

He hooks his head over Patrick’s shoulder, and everything is just a little less shitty when he can curl around a Patrick-sized heater.

“You love it.” Gabe tells him.

Patrick reaches up and twists a bit so he can stroke Gabe’s cheek and rub his shoulder.

“I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of a companion fic to one of my favorite fics ever. If you didn't hate this, go check hers out because it's better and the original and very near to my heart. There are probably five people on earth who give a shit about this ship, sorry I'm such trash for it.


End file.
